


Another Fool

by Impala_Dreamer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, bittersweet fluff, loudenswain song!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:48:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25882339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Dreamer/pseuds/Impala_Dreamer
Summary: ~Sam’s always been a dreamer…~
Relationships: Sam/You
Kudos: 2





	Another Fool

Sam used to daydream, a lot. 

As a child stuffed in the backseat of the Impala, he’d press his forehead to the window and pretend he had something worth dreaming about. He talked to himself, whispering on soft breaths so his brother and father wouldn’t hear over the radio. He talked to his imagination, to talk show hosts, to kids whose faces he made up to keep him company on long drives. 

Left alone in dirty motel rooms with faded wallpaper and stiff sheets, Sam would drift into another reality; finding comfort in the castaway romance novels left behind by previous tenants. He dreamt of a life like that, a pretty girl to talk to, a hand to hold at night. A love to sweep him away from his horrid life and make a new one from scratch. 

Sam didn’t daydream anymore. Not since Jess died, not since the universe cracked beneath his feet and Hell tried to swallow him down. Daydreams were a luxury he could no longer afford. When the mood pushed at him, the dream begging to be set free, he’d spend half a second pushing back at it. A deep breath and a sigh usually did the trick. That was, until she came along. 

Y/N was different somehow and it wasn’t just because she was new. They’d known her for a few years, passing routes in the night, cases sometimes overlapping, but having her around everyday was terrifying and amazing. Sam couldn’t seem to stop his smile when she walked into the room, couldn’t control the pace of his heart as it picked up speed. She held his gaze when she spoke, her voice flooding every cell of his body, keeping him entranced and wholly there, truly in that space until her eyes turned from his. 

That’s when it started again. Sam would find himself drifting away on a dream when she wasn’t there, wishing she would walk in and warm the air around him, bring back the sun. He daydreamed too long some days, his tired eyes sliding off of the ancient texts on his lap and focusing on something no one else could see. 

There would be a dog, obviously, maybe even two. A little wood fence to keep them in the yard; it wasn’t a big yard, just enough grass that he’d have to mow every other week to keep it nice. The house would be small, a craftsman ranch perhaps; yellow siding and a dark gray roof. Maybe shutters, he hadn’t really thought that far ahead yet. 

There would be no more monsters, no hunting, no guns under the pillows and in every corner they could fit. Gone would be the trunk full of rock salt and pockets overflowing with tinctured bullets and talismans. 

Normal. That’s what he could see with Y/N. That’s what he dreamt up on those long rides in the car now, her eyes dropping in the backseat as the Impala rocked her to sleep. That’s what he imagined when he closed his eyes at night, when his heart ached for something else, when he thought maybe, just maybe it would be over soon. 

But there was always another apocalypse, always another monster lurking, nipping at his heels. Always another end looming on the horizon. There was no normal for Sam Winchester, he knew that. He knew that better than anyone. Dean liked to dream of a beach and drinks with brightly colored umbrellas perched on the glass, but they both knew it would never happen. 

There was no beach. 

There was no yard with one, maybe even two dogs. 

There was no happy ending. 

-

Sam shook himself and let out a heavy breath, pushing up in his seat as the daydream faded. 

Y/N sat across from him, head in hand, elbow on the table. Her eyes were still, locked onto some space between them that Sam couldn’t quite pick out. She was staring but not, her pupils wide, whites glassy. 

“You OK?” he asked, smiling at her vacant, dreamy expression. 

She shivered and sat up, squaring her shoulders as the dream faded. There was never going to be a happy ending for her. There was no house with a tire swing in the yard, no puppies playing in the fallen leaves. There was no cradle waiting to be filled, no Sam to hold her close at night. It was all just a daydream. It would never be. 

“Yeah,” she said with a soft smile. “You?”

Sam nodded and cleared his throat, getting back to the book in his hands. “Yeah,” he answered, voice a little grittier than usual. “Yeah, I’m good.”


End file.
